Munster in the Magic Box
by Lucinda
Summary: Giles has a pair of very unusual customers at the Magic Box. Complete.
1. Munster in the Magic Box

Author: Lucinda  
  
Main characters: Rupert Giles, Sam Dracula (the official given name of Grandpa Munster), and Marilyn Munster.  
  
there is no pairing central to this fic. Casual mention of Herman/Lily Munster.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to Giles, Sunnydale, or the entire BtVS history - they were created by Joss Whedon and his writing staff. I hold no legal rights to the Munsters, although I can't remember who does.  
  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula - anyone else please ask first.  
  
Notes: Just a whimsical idea. A look at a possible customer at the Magic Box.  
  
Rupert Giles heard the jingle-jangle sound of the row of bells that had been placed on the door of the Magic Box. They served the very useful purpose of letting him know when someone came into the store, allowing him to try doing a little work between customers. Straightening the shelves of books, making certain the candles and incenses were stocked, that they didn't run out of 'eye of newt' or 'wool of bat'. The bells were at once a welcome and unwelcome sound. Welcome because without customers, his store would go bankrupt and close. Unwelcome because it would delay or prevent him from finishing theses tasks, and because so many times it was only curious college students who came in, looked around, and bought nothing.  
  
Slowly, he stood up, feeling the vertebrae of his back shift and crackle in protest. Adjusting the glasses that he needed far more than he'd ever have believed possible when he was still in training, he slowly began to move towards the register, partly because it was a good location to look around in. He could see almost the entire store that way. As he moved towards it, there was a slightly flicker of movement, someone in dark clothing had just walked into the section that housed the various ingredients. Whoever it was, they walked without any noises, no rattling of jewelry or clicks or squeaks of shoes, no popping of bubble gum or the sounds of portable music. That might be a good sign, most of the casual browsers didn't go to the ingredients, instead browsing in the better lit front, where there were candles, feathers, crystals, books and rattles, drums and sculptures. The whole assortment, actually.  
  
Once he'd reached the register, he settled on the stool, picking up his inventory list, and trying to mark down what and how much of each item he should order. More candles, of course, and the incense in sticks and cones, less of the more solid lumps that required a charcoal burner to use safely. More of the Tarot cards, crystals, and Dream Catchers that sold so easily among the college students.  
  
While he was sitting there, the bells jingled again, and he glanced up to see if it was someone leaving, or someone coming in. A pretty blond woman in a pale pink sweater over a pair of gray slacks stood there, glancing around the store with a slight smile. She walked in, the low heels of her shoes clicking slightly over the wood floor. She glanced at the candles, lingered over the incense, and snickered at the Tarot cards before making her way to the row of small artifacts and orbs that Giles had deemed safe enough to make available for the public.  
  
Picking up a small bonze shape, an arrangement of interlinked rings, she made her way towards him, a pleasant smile on her face. "Pardon me, but can you tell me... Is this a genuine Turan Chuf?"  
  
Rupert felt the urge to smile at her, delighted at the idea of someone in his store that actually knew what they were talking about. "I suppose that depends on your meaning. It's not an actual three thousand year old artifact, but it was made according to the exact same rituals and procedures."  
  
"That's wonderful. Grandpa and I have been looking for one of these for years... He's something of a collector." She was smiling again, with a look of some amusement, as if some of their search had been rather colorful. "Do you know if he happened to come in here? He's about my height, graying hair, dressed in a black suit with a medallion set on a red ribbon?"  
  
Rupert considered her question. "I'm not entirely certain. There was someone who came in before you, but I didn't get a look at them. I believe they went into the area over there, where there are powders, oils and dried herbs in assorted jars."  
  
"That's probably him then. Will it be all right if I just leave this here at the counter for a little bit?" She looked a bit distracted, as if she was already trying to figure out some little mental puzzle. Was it how to use the Turan Chuf, or where to display it for a proper effect? Was it something else, like curiosity over what her Grandfather might be doing? Or something so mundane as wondering what was for dinner?  
  
Nodding, he adjusted his glasses slightly. "Of course. Feel free to browse around the store."  
  
It had been a few minutes before she came back to the front, one hand carrying a basket filled with bottles from the ingredient area. The other hand was gesturing as she spoke with... Well, he looked like he'd just stepped out of a classic black and white vampire film. The very formal tuxedo, with a medallion shaped like a star on a red ribbon. His graying hair had a sharp widow's peak and sort of flew back from his head almost like wings. His face was almost as pale as his crisp looking white shirt, and his shoes were impeccably polished and black.  
  
Good heavens.  
  
"I just wish you wouldn't wander off like that, Grandpa. I don't trust the drivers out here, what if someone tried to run over you?" She sounded like she was gently lecturing the older gentleman - gentle-vampire?  
  
One hand waved almost dismissively, the other busy holding another basket of jars. "Now, Marilyn, calm down. I am five hundred years old after all; I think I can handle a little shopping. This is such a little town anyhow, I'm surprised they have such a good magic store."  
  
"Oh, Grandpa, it's better that you think! There's a Turan Chuf! And all sorts of other things, but I don't think that we were specifically looking for those. Maybe you should check." She looked so excited.  
  
"Hmmm..." He sounded thoughtful, and then made a slight turn, heading towards the register. "Might as well get this sorted out before looking those over."  
  
Rupert was certain that he was staring as the vampire drew closer. It wasn't that this was the first time that he'd encountered a vampire, but the circumstances... ahh, those were quite abnormal. He tried to keep his voice level and calm as he asked the question. "Precisely what did you have in mind for sorting those out?"  
  
"I wasn't planning on buying all of these. Some of them yes, but not all of them." He shook his head, and started pulling bottles out of the basket, eerily reminiscent of Grandma Evans in that moment. Glancing back up, he frowned slightly. "What, you've never seen a vampire before?"  
  
Ahh, the tricky question. "Not on such reasonable behavior. Rational vampires are most uncommon here."  
  
"And why do you suppose that is?" The question sounded almost rhetorical. "Children theses days... It's such a shame. No respect for traditions."  
  
"I'd actually assumed it had something to do with the Hellmouth." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he wished that he could just.. pull them back in, erase them from having ever been spoken.  
  
"This place? A Hellmouth? Huh." He shook his head, looking as if he was half chewing his lip in contemplation. "Apparently, they don't make those the way they used to either. When Lily and that big lug Herman went on their second honeymoon, it was a trip to the Hellmouth in Bermuda. Now THAT was a Hellmouth. But this? You've got all this... sunshine, and songbirds, and..." He waved his hand, as if trying to clear away an offensive odor. "Definitely not a proper Hellmouth at all."  
  
His hands were steady as he measured out the amounts of herbs, oils and powders the vampire wanted. The afternoon had taken an unexpected and bizarre twist, leaving him entirely certain that he now understood what Xander called 'that Twilight Zone feeling'. "My instruction on the matter focused more on the behavioral effects than any sort of... climate control."  
  
With a small frown, the vampire sort of shook his head, as if being forced to concede a point in a debate. "Well, I suppose there is that. But... it just lacks atmosphere. How's a body supposed to know that it's here?"  
  
"As I understood things, Wilkins didn't intend for the human populace to suspect anything unusual about Sunnydale." He was feeling a bit more daring, figuring that since things seemed to be so... unexpectedly civil, he might as well see if he could learn a little bit.  
  
"Wilkins?" There was a look of astonishment. "Not little Dickie Wilkins? How in the world did that dolt ever end up with a Hellmouth?"  
  
"Who was that, Grandpa?" The question sounded almost as if Marilyn was accustomed to discussions of Hellmouths on a regular basis.  
  
"Oh, he studied for a while at the Transylvania Academy of Sorcery... they threw him out after he did something that left the whole castle gleaming. Not a cobweb in sight, even in the storerooms. He always was a strange boy." There was a definite feeling of reminiscence. Then, with a sharp look at Rupert, he asked the bigger question. "How did he ever get the power to have a Hellmouth?"  
  
"I believe that he... ahh... sold his soul." Giles resisted the urge to clean his glasses. They were already quite polished, and he was still measuring powders.   
  
"Hmmm. Must have been one of the most ambitious things that he's done. How is he now?" There was a subtle sense of disapproval in the vampire's voice.  
  
  
  
"Actually, he's... rather deceased. There was a rather large explosion, and pieces of him were found over quite a large area afterwards." He wondered if the news would be received with anger, or amusement.  
  
Wincing, the vampire nodded. "That would definitely do it. Marilyn, remind me to pick up another fire extinguisher for the lab, would you?"  
  
"Of course, Grandpa." She looked amused. "But that will mean another store."  
  
"Oh, fine. We can go to another store." He looked almost resigned. "At least this trip hasn't been a total loss."  
  
Rupert tried not to smile as he watched the pair of them. It was one of the few times that he'd ever seen a vampire showing what looked like real affection for anyone else.  
  
The vampire meandered over to the Orbs and artifacts, looking them over. Occasionally, he would pick one up, and sometimes he'd make a little sniff, and other times he would make a sort of admiring nod with a little 'hmmmm' noise. Finally, he came back to the register, carrying two small idols, an Amulet of Driska, and an Orb of Kissiti. "I'd like these as well."  
  
"Of course. And how do you plan to pay for these items?" Giles was just finishing the last measurement.   
  
"Will you take a personal check?" The question was accompanied by the sharpest, toothiest grin that he could ever recall seeing.  
  
"eeerrr... I suppose so, provided that it has all the appropriate information." The words almost emerged on their own. Rupert was certain that most of his mind was too busy noting the very sharp looking teeth, including one molar that appeared to be gold capped...  
  
"Excellent." The black leather checkbook was whipped out with a motion that somehow brought to mind dueling and sharp weapons. A black feather quill was produced from somewhere inside the cloak, and he began writing out the check.  
  
Looking at the upside down gothic style letters, Rupert read part of the top corner, the rest obscured by the motions of the feather.  
  
'Sam Dracula  
  
1313 Mockingbird Lane  
  
Mockingbird Heights, '  
  
Shaking his head slightly, Rupert tried to smile. "I must say, it's certainly been... interesting doing business with you."  
  
"You have a very well stocked store. By chance, do you ship things? I was wondering if I could maybe arrange for home delivery..." There was a thoughtful glance back towards the rows of bottles and vials.  
  
"There is a nominal fee, but of course we can ship. Almost anywhere, although there might be delays if an item needs to be ordered specially, or if the destination is out of the way." A tiny part of his mind was thinking that having this unusually well behaved vampire as a regular mailing customer might not be that bad.  
  
"Wonderful. It's been great, but I'm afraid that Marilyn and I will have to be on our way. Now, you take care of yourself, do you hear?" The feather and checkbook vanished, and the bags slowly started to join the feather in the indiscernible recesses of the cloak.  
  
"Yes, of course." The polite response emerged from Rupert almost automatically.  
  
As they left the store, he sighed, feeling entirely relieved. "I need a good, strong cup of tea."  
  
end Munster in the Magic Box. 


	2. Beaches Aren't Safe

author: Lucinda

rating: pg 13

main characters: Rupert Giles, Grandpa Munster

disclaimer: you know they aren't mine.

distribution: Twisting & Mental Wanderings

notes: Twisting's FfA pairing # 755.

Rupert Giles shivered as he walked back towards the parking lot. He'd had to meet one of his contacts here, at the beach because Adam Peirson had become convinced that some of his colleagues had flipped their wigs and were looking for boogey-men inside their organization. Considering that, the last thing that he'd wanted was to be overheard talking about Mesopotamian demons. Come to think of it, Adam never had explained where he'd learned some of what he knew...

Unfortunately, their discussion had taken rather longer than he'd expected. The sun had already set, and while he wasn't aware of anything particularly dangerous dwelling on this little strip of beach, it couldn't hurt to be cautious. In fact, if he wasn't careful enough, it could hurt quite a lot.

As if his worry had summoned something, there was a loud roar, and a large shape loomed over him. It smelled of smoke, and lizard, and one taloned foot struck at his head before everything went black.

Chasing after Spot, Grandpa growled rude sounding things under his breath. "Didn't we tell you to keep him on his leash if you brought him out of the house? Who knows what Spot's up to now?"

"Sorry, Grandpa." Eddie offered, running over the sand. "We're getting closer. I can smell him up ahead."

"And blood... stupid dragon..." Putting on a bit more speed, he raced over the sand dune. "Spot!"

The dragon froze, hanging his head guiltily over the fallen man on the sand. The scent of blood was thick in the air, but not heavy enough to indicate a fatal wound.

Eddie moved over, scolding the dragon even as he fastened the chain back onto the heavy leather collar. "Now look what you've done, Spot. How many times have we told you not to attack people? What if he'd had a gun and shot you? What if you catch some sort of disease from him? Bad Spot."

Bending closer, Grandpa discovered that the injuries weren't too bad, considering. The man's arm was broken, and cut, and there was a small scrape on his temple, but it wasn't too bad. But there was something else. "I know who this is. He's that shop keeper from the Hellmouth."

"Is that good, Grandpa?" Eddie asked, pulling Spot closer.

"Mmmm. Depends on if there's going to be an angry Slayer searching for him. This does look a bit incriminating." Slowly, he murmured a few words, and the bones of the man's arm reset with an audible click. "I think we'd best take him home and make sure nothing else happens to him."

It took much longer to get back to the car than it had to catch Spot. Herman and Lily were loading the picnic baskets back into the car, and Marylin was shaking the sand out of the blankets.

Lily looked over at him, frowning. "Dad, you know that you're not supposed to go catch your own dinner, we brought plenty."

"Spot tried to catch him. Grandpa said he's from the Hellmouth!" Eddie exclaimed, tugging at Spot.

"Uh oh. Now what?" Herman asked, looking uneasy.

"We take him home, bandage him up, and hope that we can explain before he panics." Grandpa shrugged, and then smiled. "Maybe I can place a special order for a few things while he's here..."

"Let's hope everything works out then." Herman muttered as they climbed into the car. The retired hearse sputtered a few times and then they were on their way home.

To his surprise, Rupert Giles woke up. Considering that the last thing he remembered was being charged by a dragon, even if it had been a rather small one, this was unexpected. His arm ached, and his head throbbed, and there was sand in his mouth.

Carefully, he opened his eyes, trying to figure out what had happened. There was a stone wall to his left, and solid beams of wood supporting a stone ceiling. A skeleton hung on the wall across from him, and there were cobwebs in the corners. Carefully, he turned his head to look around. A table full of beakers, glass tubes and a small Bunsen burner bubbled with something pale green, and wisped steam into the air. A figure with gray hair and a long black cloak bent over the end of the table.

It all looked rather like something from an overdone horror movie.

Blinking, he glanced at his arm, noticing the splint and the bandages. So, someone had tried to patch him up after the dragon had attacked him. He just wasn't certain what had happened to the dragon. Or how he'd gotten here, or quite where here was. "Bloody hell."

"Ah, you're awake." The figure turned around, every bit as classic vampire as the room seemed classic dungeon-laboratory. "How's your head?"

For a moment, he tried to sort out his thoughts, including the conflict of vampire equals bad and the feeling that the vampire in question looked familiar. "A bit painful. It doesn't feel like a concussion, but still..."

"Fourteen stitches." The vampire nodded, and tapped the table beside him. "Much easier to get those in while you were still out, by the way. And I do apologize about Spot."

Blinking, Rupert tried to make that last sentence make sense. He did remember where he'd encountered the vampire before - shopping in the Magic Box with his lovely, normal seeming granddaughter Marylin. "The dragon?"

"We've told Eddie that he needs to keep Spot on a leash any time he takes him out, but he slipped the chain." There was a small shrug, and he poured a few strange liquids into a beaker, and dropped in a pinch of powder. There was a puff of pale smoke, and the resulting orange fluid bubbled slightly. "Here, this should help with the headache. I figured that it would be easier to patch you up myself rather than trying to find a hospital."

Gingerly, he accepted the beaker. It smelled faintly like oranges and the aftermath of a lightning strike. Closing his eyes, he took a swallow, and it felt like every cell of his body gasped and sputtered. "That's powerful stuff."

"Come on upstairs, you might want a bite to eat. And there's a phone if you need to call someone and let them know you've been delayed." With that, Sam Dracula moved towards a stone stairway that covered the wall to the right.

"Yes, that does sound good." To his surprise, he didn't wobble at all as he stood up. Maybe he should ask just what had been in that potion? As he contemplated the ingredients of some of the potions he'd mixed, he decided that he'd rather not know. "You and your granddaughter?"

"And Eddie who owes you an apology about his pet, and my charming daughter Lily and her husband, the big lug."

As Rupert walked up to more strangeness, he reflected that this was better than being eaten by a dragon, and warmer than the beach had been. Things could have been much worse.

end Beaches Aren't Safe.


End file.
